The Final Games
by SAIgirl24
Summary: "Oh, but I have to give them a good show dear, dear Chastity. I'm sure they all will love what I'm going to do to you." "Why aren't the Gamemakers stopping this? They have to know what he is about to do, they can stop this." This is the story of the Final Hunger Games as seen through the eyes of Snow's "granddaughter". Rated M for graphic violence and light lemons (w/warnings)
1. The Final Games

**A/N:** _ Hey everyone, this is my first Hunger Games fanfic, so please be a little gentle. **Please keep reading, it does get better**! I will do my best to update at least once a week, but can't make any guarenttee's once school starts back up. __This has been updated to include the first chapter as well. **Please read and review! **_

___The first chapter is dedicated to the Giggling Gummy Bear for favoriting this story! _

_As always** I do not own** any of the Hunger Games characters, places, or themes, but I do own the OC's I came up with :)_

**Prologue- The Final Games**

I sit in the room waiting for the announcement that the entire country of Panem has been eagerly anticipating. President Paylor takes the stage and stands at the podium as the cheers die down. Once the crowd of Capitol residents and scattered District residents clams down she begins to speak.

"I know that there are many speculations as to what my decision has been about the Victor vote of a Final Hunger Games," the crowd is so silent I could hear a pin drop, "I have decided to uphold the vote." My moment of confusion seemed to last forever. I could not believe what I just heard. After a few seconds of holding up her hands, Paylor begins to speak again and I listen intently making sure I didn't hear wrong.

"There are few things that I have insisted on changing in regards to the rules. There will be no random reaping of children. Instead the war tribunal will hand select the various young relatives of guilty criminals, and even a few that have been found guilty themselves." At this the crowd on the screen cheered loudly and I felt the color drain from my face.

"The names will be read in one months' time. Immediately after which the tributes will be allowed to ask any of the surviving Victors to be their mentor. All surviving Victors will be required to become a mentor, whether they voted for or against. Those Victors that were in favor shall have the added punishment of mentoring two tributes, since they especially wished to see these children die. These Games will represent the closing of an oppressed time in Panem's history." Again the crowd erupts into cheers, "but it will also serve as a final reminder to all that the Tributes, both past and present, have been unjustly punished for acts committed long ago."

There was only scattered applause at this final statement. Obviously not many shared her sentiments about the roles the remaining Victor's played or how the Games should be viewed. Before I hear another word I rush to the adjoining bathroom to my cell. I can feel the bile rising from the pit of my stomach and shortly I taste an acidic version of my awful breakfast. I know that there is no hope for me. I will be in these Final Games. I can only hope that I can prove to the entire country that I am just as much a victim as they. I need to get my story out there. I want all of Panem to know that not even the most prestige of persons in the Capitol were able to get away from the coils of my grandfather, President Snow.

**Chapter 1-The Arrival**

I stare at the ceiling of what is now my prison cell, twirling my blond hair around my index finger. The ankle bracelet tracker beeps steadily filling the room with sound other than my breathing. My days are long and uneventful since my trial. Once the rebels took over the Capitol I knew my life would turn upside down. I knew my grandfather would be killed and I would be too. I just didn't expect to be sitting around waiting to go into a final arena. I had no chance to defend myself during my trial. Those that were questioned claimed that I was eagerly following in my grandfather's footsteps. They didn't know the exact frequency to which I was forced by gun point, or the occasional injection of Trackerjacker venom, to accomplish my tasks. I hated them for being cheated and thrown to the dogs, just because I legally shared a last name with a cruel tyrant.

"Are you ready Ms. Snow?" a man asks. I hate that name. I didn't even hear the guard enter my former bedroom. I sit up and grab the small duffle bag he hands to me.

"Let's get this shit over with," I say, making my way down the hall and to the hovercraft. There are only a few still left that are operational for the rebels to use. I buckle the straps as the hovercraft lifts into the air. Within a few minutes I close my eyes and think of what it is I'm going to say to try and convince the Victors in District 12 to help me. In a few hours we land in what is still the rubble that is left from the bombing nearly seven months ago. I'm lowered by the ladder and feel my body relax once the force that kept me frozen releases.

"You have one month Ms. Snow," one of Paylor's personal guards shouts from the hovercraft. I look over to the two large women with guns that have been sent along with me. I roll my eyes and start to walk in the direction of the only structure within a mile.

_'That must be the Victor's Village for 12_, I say to myself. The two women are desperately trying to keep up with my long strides. I'm not very tall, but I have learned to walk with a purpose quickly, so that I could get away from my grandfather without raising too much suspicion.

As I walk over to the white cookie cutter houses I can't help but feel a half smile spread on my lips. '_Why are you smiling Aine'_, I reprimand myself, _'you're just here to ask for help. Nothing more than that, not yet anyway_'. Staying alive is my only goal; I must show my innocence to all of Panem. But I can't help the slight warm and comfortable feeling the sight of the houses brings me, and what I know is waiting inside.

"Hi there," I hear a young man's voice before I see him, "What brings you to District 12?" He sounds a little cautious as he brings his sight up from the small garden patch he was immersed in. I look directly into his blue eyes and immediately recognize him as Peeta Mellark. My mind starts to swim with unpleasant memories.

"I'm here to talk to Haymitch," I say hesitantly. '_Damn it'_, I curse. I was originally leaning toward asking Katniss Everdeen to help me, but I say his name first.

Peeta looks at me quizzically seeing the two women finally catch up and one grab my arm forcefully.

"Watch it will you," I shout. He lowers his head and snaps it right back up once he caught sight of my ankle bracelet.

"You must be Snow's granddaughter then right?" he asks, "We were told that you might show up." With that he turned around and gestured for me to follow. I pull my arm out of the tight hold and rub my bicep as I follow.

"He's in there," Peeta points to the middle of three lit up houses. I make my way to the porch and knock on the door. No answer.

"Just go right on in, he's probably passed out," Peeta meets me at the door and opens it walking past me. I look around trying to find the source of the pungent smell that creeps into my nostrils. Peeta continues into the house, calling out to Haymitch in case he may be awake.

"What do you want?" I hear a grumble from the kitchen, which is located in the back of the house.

"She's here, she wants to talk to you," I then hear a door shut and Peeta is gone. I make my way into the kitchen and find one of the men that had sealed my fate.

"Haymitch… Abernathy?" I know that it's him, but ask anyway, my breath catching in my throat.

"I repeat. What do you want?" he squints at me. I set my bag down and take a seat in front of him. I've acquired the bad habit of making every home in Panem my home, something that my grandfather taught me.

"I'm sure you know what it is I've come to ask Haymitch," I stare right back at him. I can see the same grey eyes as mine glaring right back.

"I want a mentor," I say flatly. I'm trying my best to keep on a neutral mask, but I can tell that my eyes are betraying me. I'm scared to death of going into this arena, and yet excited to be where I am at this very moment. After a few minutes of silence, Haymitch starts to laugh.

"Out of the other Victors you want my help?" he shakes his head, "Sweetheart, there is nothing-" I hold up a single bottle and he shuts up immediately.

"You were saying?" I pass the bottle over to him, "How shall we start? As I'm sure you know, those that have been picked as tributes have been allowed to take advantage of training before the Reaping. My guess is that the bloodbath would just be pathetic in the eyes of the Districts if we didn't." Haymitch opened the bottle and took a big swig of the clear liquid.

"Hold your horses there girly-"

"My name is Aine. I'm 25 years old, older than both of your previous Victors, so don't call me girly," I correct him. _'You're defiance is showing'_ I hear my grandfather' voice in my head and I cringe.

"Well excuse me…Aine," he mocks. We stare at one another, until finally a light cough brings me back to the task at hand. The Girl on Fire, the Mockingjay, is standing right behind Haymitch, her fist full holding two dead rabbits.

"Katniss Everdeen," I nod in her direction.

"Here Haymitch," she places the rabbits in front of him on the table, her eyes never leaving mine. Again I am greeted with similar eyes to my own.

"Are you two related," I blurt out, not thinking. The two give a quick exchange and burst out into laughter. My cheeks redden just slightly at my own stupid question. '_Of course they aren't related, why were you hoping that?' _I just blame my raising anxiety on my lapse.

"No, we're just both from the Seam. An area that used to be a part of the District," Haymitch finally answered. Katniss then took a seat at the table to my left.

"You've come for advice haven't you?" she asks. I'm finally able to detect the hint of loathing in her stare.

"I want a mentor. I only have a few skills that I was able to successfully hide from my grandfather that may be useful," I don't know why I spilled that information so quickly. Both Katniss and Haymitch give me a questioning glance, and then exchange another look. The three of them must have their own language by now, especially since they are just part of the handful of people that are back in District 12.

"You look older than most tributes," she tells me, "Are you one of the tributes that were found guilty of your own crimes?" I know that she's just trying to rub this well-known information in, like salt into an open wound, by her tone.

"I'm 25," my patience is already wearing thin from the scrutiny and I can feel the anxiety rising even more in my chest.

"What exactly do you expect us to be able to do for you?" Haymitch takes another swig of the liquor I gave him.

"Help me stay alive," I say, "I'm innocent-"

"Innocent my ass," Haymitch scoffs to himself, rolling his eyes. I stare at him and look back to Katniss. Neither of them believes me. '_Why would they? Look whose name I share and all the half-truths about me brought to light.'_

"I am innocent. I was wrongfully accused of those charges by the War Tribunal. I will prove it to you if I must, but right now I need to know if you- either of you- will be a mentor for me," The silence fills the room and yet again my ankle bracelet becomes the only noise.

"Look I don't want to be here just as much as you don't want me here, but I am desperate. I only have one month," I finally choke out. I'm sure my heartbeat is betraying me with how loud it has become in the small silent room.

"I'll consider it," Haymitch finally says. I feel my breath finally relax out of my body, "But on one condition. You get me more of this." He holds up the alcohol.

"What can you do?" Katniss now asks, ignoring him altogether, "You mentioned that you had hidden skills? What do you mean?"

"I learned a few things without my grandfather's permission or knowledge," I explain, "I was able to convince some of the Peacekeepers that worked in the mansion to teach me some basic combat moves."

"Well you should be just fine then," Haymitch stood up and headed out to the living room, "Go back to your beautiful cell, sweetheart. There's nothing more any of us can do for you in a single month." I get up from my spot and follow him, Katniss trailing behind.

"Please," I cry, "You have to mentor two tributes anyway." He keeps walking up the staircase. The anxiety keeps building. I didn't expect my emotions to be this difficult for me and resisted the urge to scream at him.

"I have information that you might want to know." This gets his attention. He turns toward me, bottle still in hand.

"What on earth could you know?" he eyes me suspiciously.

"Get me out of that arena alive and I'll tell you." I counter. There's no hesitation in my voice.

"You're bluffing." He turns back away and heads up the stairs. I look back toward Katniss. She's looking me straight in the eye.

"I'll talk to him. I'll try to help prepare you, but I'm _not_ going to be your mentor." With that she followed Haymitch upstairs. I heard the knocking and muffled dialogue and few shouts even. About 20 minutes later Katniss makes her way back down.

"There is a guest bedroom at the end of the hall where you can stay. You're guards can stay down here in the living room." She tells me, "You and I will start some of that additional training in the morning."

I don't know what it was that made Katniss agree to help, but I'm grateful that she did. I head up the stairs and hear a faint snoring come from behind what must be Haymitch's room. I have very little with me so I don't bother to unpack. I strip down to my underclothes and slip into the bed. I lay for a few hours before finally drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: Lessons

**A/N:** _Again updated version. __This chapter is dedicated to KingAlanI! **Please read and review** or **show your love** however you decide!_

_I do not own the Hunger Games characters, places, or any topic/idea found in the wonderful novels of Suzanne Collins and film(s) produced by Lionsgate._

**Chapter 2- Lessons**

_My eyes are drying out and starting to sting. No matter how hard I try, my lids won't close. The images flash before my eyes and all I can hear are cheers and laughter. I can't process what I'm seeing. Faces of unknown children tear through my vision. Each second that passes my eyes sting more and more, both from lack of their natural moisture and a thick liquid substance that slowly drips down. Once the pressure from my eye lids had been removed I reach up and cover them, trying to wipe away the images. I set my hands down and notice they are stained with blood. That's when I let out a scream. _

My body wakes with a jolt and I'm covered in a light sheen of sweat. I glance around the room trying to get my bearings back as to where I am. I hate flashbacks. They were always much more vivid than dreams.

_At least in was I was asleep and not during waking hours this time_, I think. I try to settle back on top of the bed in the guest bedroom. I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm still being watched. Even though my grandfather is dead, his tactics still haunt me. I quickly pull the quilt over my head and start murmuring the prayer that my mother had secretly left me all those years ago.

I don't know if or when I had finally fallen asleep, but I know that I didn't get nearly enough as I slowly trudge out the door to meet with Katniss.

"You look like hell," Haymitch tells me as I pass him. I glare at him, but don't say anything as I don't have any energy to retort. I exit the house and nearly trip over the wire that my guards have placed outside the front door. It turns out they decided to stay out in the yard in case I tried to make a break for the surrounding forest.

_As if I could survive_, I scoff to myself. I glance around and notice that Katniss has set up a small target in front of the row of houses in the Victor's Village. I walk up to the bow and arrow set that is lying on the ground. I crouch down and softly run my fingers over the smooth wood.

"I made that one myself," Katniss bends down, "You will be using it for today and every morning while I teach you how to shoot." She sounds distant, as if she would rather be doing something else, which I'm sure she would.

I follow her instructions as best I can, but it is clear that I don't possess the hand-eye coordination needed for the bow and arrow. Each time I aim for the target my hand slips from the tension of the bow string and the arrow goes flaying through the air and lands two feet in front of me. Haymitch bursts into fits of laughter each time I fail. His laughter only increasing my stress level as I know I need to find a way to survive these Games.

"Maybe you should try something else there sweetheart, the bow doesn't seem to be her thing," he shouts at Katniss from his porch once his laughter subsides. She shoots him a look and he immediately quiets down, but I can still see the smile on his face.

"Let's move on then," she takes the bow from my hands, almost too forcefully. She sets down the bow and I follow her into the house to the left of Haymitch's.

The living room floor is covered in various plants. Peeta is sitting in a chair in the far corner of the room with a book and piece of charcoal in his hand. He sketches something quickly in the book, concentration covering his face. Even as we walk in he doesn't look up from his work.

"You'll be learning the basics of plant identification," Katniss informs me. She sits cross legged in front of Peeta, as she settles herself I see him slightly tense up and then relax after she pats his knee lightly.

"I'm glad to see you're doing better, Mr. Mellark," I sit across from the expanse of plants facing Katniss. Peeta finally looks up from his work for a brief moment before replying.

"Yes, thanks… and call me Peeta." I could clearly hear the tone of his voice warning me to not take the topic any further. I remember his stay in the Capitol very clearly, although I'm sure he has no idea of my role. My grandfather had also made sure that the screams from any that were tortured were clearly heard in my bedroom at all hours. I glance at the plants in front of me, hesitating to touch any as I had no clues which, if any, were poisonous to the touch. The closest that I came to nature before were the various gardens that my grandfather tended in the mansion. There were a very few that I did recognize right off the bat by Katniss' feet as all being herbs that you could eat. As a little girl I remember wandering into the tiny herb garden that was just down the hall from the kitchens. I loved to grab the various plants and either smell them or pop a leaf in my mouth. In the very center of the display in Katniss' living room was a three tipped leaf with a very detailed and elaborate pattern. Something about it seemed oddly familiar to me. Katniss must have noticed how intently I was studying the center item as I felt a small pebble hit my forehead and a grin spread on both her and Peeta's lips.

"Hi there," she said still grinning, "I thought I lost you. I know that it's a lot to take in, but this is really going to be a life saver." I blinked my eyes a few times to try and regain my focus. Why were they grinning?

"What's that in the center?" I got on my knees to grab the leaf, but Katniss stopped me before I could reach it.

"You don't want to touch that one. That's poison ivy," she gently let go of my wrist; "Most of the leaves that have the three tip shape like this are generally poisonous." She continued to have me carefully remove-with a towel covered hand-all the leaves that fit her qualifications for possible poison based on shape. The next few hours were spent carefully looking at the remaining edible plants, taking notes on shape, smell, and texture.

"In two days I'll take you out to our woods and see how many you can correctly identify," Katniss picked herself up from the floor and held her hand out to me. Where was this sudden niceness coming from? I take her hand as she helps me to my feet.

"I'm going to try and find dinner before I lose too much light."

"What should I do in the meantime?" I question. I know that I would be absolutely useless hunting.

"Just enjoy what are your last days on earth," Haymitch mocked from the doorway. How long had he been standing there? I looked to Katniss to help with my defense, but she was gone, the back door hitting the frame.

"You know she's not going to hold your hand in that arena sweetheart," he crosses over to me, "You will have to learn this stuff so that you can focus on the combat during the tribute training, because you will need it. I don't care if you've had little sympathy matches with Peacekeepers, that will not be what those of us in the Districts want to see. We want the same bloodshed and a good show that has been provided to the Capitol for nearly 76 years."

"What are you getting at? I didn't create the original games," the anxiety that has been slowly building in my chest since yesterday is starting to come to the surface. "I had no control over things that Snow did. How can you possibly believe that this is the right way to address your grief?" My hands are slowly starting to shake.

"Let's force more people to their death. An eye for an eye, is that it? Will that fix everything for you?" My voice has begun to rise and Peeta has stopped his work altogether with the drawing. I can now see how much I will have to prove, and my stress increases.

"What I'm saying is that if you want to win you will have to kill, I can tell that you don't want to do that. But simple self-defense will not nearly be enough to accomplish that," Haymitch's voice is surprisingly calm with just a hint of sarcasm, "You don't need to remind us that you are 'just another victim'." I'm not listening now as my panic attack is in full swing.

"I am innocent!" I scream. "If you only knew half the shit that man put me through-" My entire body is shaking with the force of my ragged breathing and sobs that escape my lips.

"Put you through?" Peeta speaks from behind me, "He killed and took away everyone that we've ever loved except for us three Victors. Your Capitol problems are nothing in comparison." I turn to face him, clamping my fists shut.

"Please don't underestimate what I've been through," I grab the long black sleeve of my top and push it up exposing the inner side of my elbow. The dark purple tracks go all the way up my bicep.

"How do you think Snow knew that the most effective way to hijack you would be to insert the Trackerjacker venom right into your neck? It's because I was his fucking guinea pig!" I thrust my arm into Peeta's face making sure he and Haymitch get a good view.

"I know what you've gone through. I've experienced it. The pain, the confusion, the-"My face suddenly contorts as another flashback breaks it way into my mind.


	3. Chapter 3: Flashbacks

**A/N: **_Thanks to KingAlanI his help with this chapter! This chapter is dedicated to Radio Free Death for thier reviews! (Note that I am dedicating chapters to those that review/favorite/or follow!) **As always please read and review**. I know that people are reading and would **really like some feed back**! Thanks!_

_I don't own the Hunger Games._

**Chapter 3- Flashbacks**

_'Mommy!' I scream into the empty white room. I can hear her bone chilling shrieks echo around me. My eyes search for her and for an exit, but to no avail. The white light of the room is too bright, so I begin to run. As I reach each side of the room I pound on the walls, hoping to make my presence known so I can get to my mother. I trip and fall hitting my face on the floor. I turn to see a dark green vine slithering towards my ankle. I try to scramble back up to my feet, but am pulled back down by the vine as it wraps around my calf. _

The next thing I became of aware of is that my wrists are tied to the bed in the guest bedroom in Haymitch's house. My bag and all its contents are strewn across the floor. I blink my eyes trying to get the sleep out of them. If I'm lucky I black out after a flashback hits, and that's exactly what happened for this one. I don't remember a thing from the event. In the corner of the room Haymitch is there in a small chair. His lower lip is fat and bleeding from a small cut.

"Sorry," I croak out. He turns his gaze to me, his eyes mixed with anger and sadness. My still blurry vision gazes down to the thin gold chain that he has in his hand.

"Where did you get this?" he asks. I can't tell him, not yet, so I ignore his question.

"I'm sorry I hit you. What happened to Peeta?" I ignore his burning stare.

"Where did you get this necklace?" he asks again, I can hear a slight break in his voice. I know that can't bring myself to tell him the truth, so I make up a lie on the spot.

"My grandfather gave it to me," I turn my head to the wall. Hopefully he will get the hint to drop the subject. I don't feel like talking about the origins of that necklace.

"What did I do to Peeta?" I repeat. At that moment Peeta enters the room with a cup of tea and a plate. I immediately notice that he has the beginnings of a black eye.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, "I didn't mean to hurt either of you. Snow did awful things to get me to go along with whatever he wanted. Please, you must believe me about that."

"We see that sweetheart," Haymitch still sounds a little distant; "You just rest. Peeta will help you with the aftershock. He's better at that than me." He turns to leave and I hear the front door of the house slam shut.

"Haymitch? Peeta? We've got two more here," Katniss shouts up the stairs.

"We're up here," Peeta shouts back. He sits down on the bed next to me, "Would you like to have any tea or cookies? I know after mine I usually need something to eat, and peppermint tea helps relax away any nausea." I'm extremely grateful for his kindness and understanding. I nod my head and try to sit up, but can't move far with the make shift restraints around my wrists. Katniss walks into the small room and immediately tenses up after taking in the state of the room.

"What the hell happened?" she looks from Peeta to Haymitch.

"Sit down, you won't quite believe it," Haymitch motions for Katniss to take his seat in the corner, "Aine had what appears to be an episode, not too different from Peeta's." Haymitch explained everything that happened after Katniss left and also filled in the parts where I blacked out. It apparently took Haymitch 20 minutes to realize that I was unresponsive to anything they said; my arms were flailing all over the place as I was screaming to let her go. That's how they ended up with their "battle wounds" Haymitch had mockingly referred to his split lip and Peeta's black eye. They had no clue what I was referring to in my manic state, but I knew immediately that it was about my mother's death. After I raced out of the house it took them another 45 minutes to find me passed out asleep behind a nearby bush. Haymitch had carried me back to his house as Peeta found rope to restrain me; in case I woke up and still wasn't myself.

"I'll admit, she got you pretty good Haymitch," Peeta chuckles softly to himself. Haymitch wipes the dry blood from his chin and gives me a half smile that cause a slight amount of blood to flow anew.

"Yeah, now if only we could harness that power and skill when she's aware of it for the arena," Haymitch took his knife out of his back pocket and cut my restraints lose. I took a hold of the saucer that held the tea cup and drank a sip, but my hands were still a bit shaky.

"Katniss I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt either of them I swear."

"Don't. I've seen how Peeta acts during his and know you must have had no control," she eyes my arm which still has the sleeve rolled up. Her wariness of me is back according to the expression on her face.

"We have more company you said?" Peeta asked Katniss to break the silence that had settled.

"Yeah they're downstairs, two boys around our age, one may actually be a little older," Katniss stood up and proceeded to walk back down to the first level.

"I can't believe that Paylor is really making us be mentors," Peeta gets up and follows her. "We'll just be down stairs if you need us, Aine." After he and Katniss left, Haymitch made his way back to the door.

"You owe me a better explanation about that necklace," he then left the room and headed to meet two of the people that I'm supposed to kill next month.

I slowly finished my tea and cookies that Peeta left for me. I didn't know if I was supposed to stay put, or if I should go explore and get a peek of the new arrivals down stairs. Against my better judgment and my curiosity getting the better of me, I creep out of the room and descend the wooden steps. I don't know who else has been chosen, as the public reaping won't be held for just under a month. I was notified by Paylor herself the day after her announcement. I'm guessing so were the others that have been selected. The Reaping is only for show after all.

I hear the warm and low timber of a very familiar voice as I approach the bottom landing of the stair case. I stop and poke my head around the corner, trying my best not to be seen by the occupants of the living room.

"Aine?" he asks. _Crap_, I look up and am met by the round brown eyes of the young man that I've known for the past 5 years.

"Cyrus," I stand up from my crouched position at the bottom of the stairs, "I didn't expect to see you here, especially as a tribute."

"I don't think any of us really expected this," his voice was always so warm, "Why were you hiding?"

"I wasn't hiding," I retort. His brown eyes were skeptical, "I just wasn't sure that I could come down."

_Wow Aine_, I mutter to myself_, that's really lame_. As I expected Cyrus didn't look convinced.

"Is that your handy work Aine?" he points to Haymitch and Peeta's wounds changing the subject. A small smirk spreads across his full lips. They are lips that I wish I could forget; it would make having to kill him in the Games easier. Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss all exchange a curious glance.

"He's aware of my… 'episodes'," I tell them, not moving my gaze from Cyrus' lips, "I sort of had my first one in front of him. And he was much worse for wear." I now return his smile remembering how he was teased by his uncle Seneca Crane for being beaten up by a crazy girl. I had first met Cyrus when he accompanied his uncle during his time as Head Gamemaker. My grandfather always wanted to keep the Head Gamemaker close, and any other political cronies he had. Just like Louis XIV, the King of an ancient country known as France a few millennia ago, and a place called Versailles. Cyrus hadn't changed a bit since I last saw him almost a year ago. He had a typical man's build: light muscle tone in his upper body and torso, shoulders that were broader than mine, but not overly so. His short brown hair was spiked in its normal fashion, although a little longer now as some spikes drooped into his eyes. He was only about two inches taller than me, which made it easy for my lips to reach his. I felt my stomach begin to flip remembering those first two years we were together.

"I apparently spent two days in a coma in my room at the Presidents mansion," he explained, "I never even knew what had hit me." He chuckles at the memory. I had felt so guilty afterward that I had spent every moment I could by his side, praying that he'd wake up.

"What triggers yours?" Peeta asked his curiosity was obviously getting the better of him.

"Stress mainly," I walk over to the couch that is propped up against the wall facing the window of the living room, "Sometimes one can be caused by a phrase or specific action, but those are rare. Usually once a trigger had been figured out it spread like wildfire among the staff and those closest to me so they didn't repeat them."

"The one I had today was produced by an increase in stress which led to a panic attack. Sometimes I, or someone else, can catch onto the anxiety building up and calm me down before I black out and have to fight against my dreams back to reality."

"I know the feeling," Peeta looks me straight in the eye, "How often do you meditate?"

"Meditate? I don't think I ever have."

"I'll teach you that. It can be really helpful sometimes. Other things that help me are concentrating on hobbies that I enjoy, like Baking and various Medias for Art."

"Aine is a good singer," Cyrus chimes in, "She got her voice from her mother, so I'm told." I shoot him a death glare. How dare he mention my mother.

"Shut the fuck up Cyrus," I spit. He raises his hands defensively in front of him.

"I meant nothing by it Aine, but you do have a good voice. Maybe you and Katniss can sing together, as part a hobby like Peeta suggests." I can see Katniss now giving him a deadly glare out of the corner of my eye.

"Singing won't save her ass in that arena," the other boy finally spoke up.


	4. Chapter 4: Old Friends and New Enemies

_A/N: **Please review, favorite, or follow**! So far I only know that **3** people really like this, and while I love them for it I know that more are reading! **PLEASE if you like it TELL ME!** If I can get 5 reviews/favorites/follows in the next 48 hours (so by 10:30pm MST in America) I will upload the next chapter! If not you will have to wait your usual week! _

_I do not own the Hunger Games._

**Chapter 4- Old Friends and New Enemies**

I had completely forgotten that he was even there. He had short spiked deep blue hair with eyes to match. He was a bit shorter than Cyrus and me, but the rest of his appearance screamed a Capitol breeding.

"I like this kid," Haymitch smiles, "Can I have him?"

"No," Katniss and I shout at the same time. I didn't like the feeling that this blue guy gave off, but I kept that opinion to myself.

"We'll train them altogether –if they want or need- until the Reaping. We can decide then who will be whose official mentor," Katniss followed up, "I just don't want to deal with this shit right now."

"Don't hold your breath Sweetheart; remember we get two as part of our 'punishment' ", Haymitch calls after her. Katniss walked into the kitchen in a huff and began to clean her kills from her afternoon of hunting. Cyrus and the other boy, whose named I learned was Silas, went to Peeta's house to unpack their few belongs. Apparently Peeta was staying at Katniss' house in a spare bedroom to help each other with their nightmares, so he had plenty of room available. I headed back up to my room to wait.

I didn't even realize that I had fallen asleep until I felt the soft shaking of my shoulder.

"Come on girl, dinner is ready," Haymitch says. I lazily roll to my side and sit up.

"Dinner?" I'm a little surprised at the invitation.

"Yeah, we're not completely heartless," he informs before heading to the door.

"Why do you want to know about the necklace?" I ask as I follow him down the stairs. I knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from him.

"We'll talk about it later," was all that he said before we rounded the corner into the kitchen. The dinner was spent mainly in silence with a few sparse compliments to Peeta and Katniss for the well cooked meal. I was a little amazed at how gracious both of them were to us Capitol tributes. There was absolutely no need for them to feed us or house us, but they were. I wish I knew why, as well as a way to repay them.

The next day the three of us spend most of the morning learning how to shoot, each taking a turn with the bow and arrow set Katniss had made. After observing Silas the night before I knew that he had rightfully earned his spot in these Games. He was the youngest son of the previous Head Gamemaker, Ruben Scott, before Seneca took over. I had never met him before his arrival in District 12, but once I made the connection I clearly remembered his reputation. He was a despicable human being, and had more than one female Victor sent to his bed, even at his young age of 17. The stories that I heard from some of the staff of what he had them do made my skin crawl. He was going to be my first target if someone else didn't get to him first.

When it was Silas's turn he aimed and let the arrows fly with ease, each hitting a part of its intended target. I still had trouble just getting the arrow to do anything close to what I wanted it to. I didn't understand why Katniss kept insisting that I even keep trying to learn.

"Damn it!" the arrow lands five feet in front of me.

"You can't expect results overnight," Katniss said picking up the arrow and handing it back to me," Try again. Keep your elbow flat, not raised up." She moved my arm into what was supposed to be a better position, but the tension of the bow string caused my arm to shake.

"Once you get the hang of it, it will be one of your most valuable skills," she explained.

"I don't think blondie here has skills for anything," Silas mutters. I glare at him before letting the arrow fly, falling just short of the target.

"I have a name," I grit my teeth,' _And_ j_ust wait until we're in the arena you dick,_' I finish in my mind.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget, Ah-ee-nuh," he purposely mispronounces my name. Silas had been insulting me all morning and my patience was really wearing thin. No topic had been off limits for him. I'm just grateful that he didn't know everything about me. He would have much more verbal ammunition. While I've been insulted and verbally and mentally abused before by my grandfather, Silas' words had a different sting and effect to them.

"It's pronounced Ann you sorry piece of-" I'm cut off by Haymitch resting a hand on my shoulder.

"Easy now," he said, "We don't want a repeat of yesterday. Although I wouldn't get in your way if you did." He pointedly looked at Silas with this last remark. Most of what Silas had said caused Haymitch to smile a little bit, but the last few remarks had apparently crossed some personal line of his tolerance. I'm pretty sure the comments Silas made about my forced activities while under Trackerjacker venom had been the tipping point. Especially since Peeta was showing clear signs of rising anxiety and has to excuse himself from our presence more than once. No one really needs to hear about some of those crimes I was forced to witness or even have minor participation in.

"Go ahead and let her have an _episode_," Silas spit in my direction, "I'm not scared of this pathetic excuse for a woman." He grabbed the bow from my grasp and set himself up to take aim. I really wasn't pathetic looking; I was quite the opposite actually. I wasn't small by any means; I had my fair share of meals over the years. However, some of the later psychological torture sessions had created a mild eating disorder that I had just barely recovered from before the rebellion. During my illness I had started to look just like any well fed District citizen. This of course was highly frowned upon by many Capitol citizens as I was no longer able to fill out my dresses for the few public events that I had attended. After working with Dr. Aurelius I regained back some of my womanly curves. I also became a bit stronger than I appeared, and the shock on Silas's face was clear as I flung my body at him, knocking him on his back.

"What the fuck!" he screamed as I tried to restrain his arms under my thighs as the Peacekeepers had showed me. Once I was successful I let my fists fly freely against his face and ribs. This bastard was going to be black and blue. No one would be able to tell the difference between his face and hair.

"No skills, huh Silas?" I can hear Cyrus chuckle from a few feet away, "I would call kicking your ass a pretty good one." I suddenly felt a pair of hands grip around my waist.

"No, let me kill him now!" I scream. Another set of hands grab my feet and prevent me from kicking free.

"Crazy bitch," Silas rubs his jaw and smears the blood that's flowing down from his nose, "You're going to be the first I kill in that arena, I promise you that Aine."

"Not if I get to you first you little prick! You're going to be so sorry once I get to that cornucopia!" My rising hatred of and desire to kill him was the only thing I was beginning to look forward to in that arena.

"Shut her up Haymitch," it's Peeta's voice that has just shouted in my ear. The strain in his voice was not only from the act of carrying me; he was fighting hard against his own thoughts.

"Girl, you better calm down, I mean it. He's not worth it," Haymitch tries, but the smile betrays his attempts.

"Katniss keep them both out here," Peeta instructs. My blonde hair is wild from the struggle as I'm carried back into the house and I can hear Peeta having to spit it out of his face.

"Let's set her down at the table," Haymitch instructs, "I have an idea." I'm set into a chair and see Haymitch grab one of his bottles. Peeta's hands remain on my upper arms holding them behind the chair, effectively keeping me in place. Haymitch sits across of me and hands me the second bottle he picked up.

"Why don't you drown that fire out," he says.

"Haymitch?" Peeta questions, "Do you really-"

"It'll work, trust me," even I eye him suspiciously at his proposition.

"I'm not going to get drunk," I say flatly.

"No one said you had to, but trust me when I say a drink will do you good," he opens the bottle and pushes back toward me. Peeta lets go of one arm, but keeps the other secure. I cautiously reach out and take a small sip of the liquid. It burns slightly as it journeys down my throat. I twist my face up at the aftertaste.

"This shit is way too bitter," I complain, "How this is even going to help-"

"It will calm you down," he gestured for me to take another sip, "If you're anything like the girl I'm starting to suspect you are, you'll trust me on this." I take a few more sips and can feel my body starting to lose some of its tension. I have had some champagne at Capitol events before, but whatever this was it was much stronger. Peeta starts to loosen his grip on my other arm, after seeing me relax, and finally sits down at the table with Haymitch and me.

"How are you doing boy?" Haymitch eyed him.

"I'm calming down," Peeta confirmed. The three of us sat there in silence for several minutes. I swirl the drink in the glass, trying to think of something to fill the tension that has settled in the air.

"So what is your story exactly?" Haymitch is the first to break the silence.

"What do you mean?" I'm not too sure where this is going?

"I'm not understanding why you are even so against what Snow stood for," he took his first swig of his drink.

"It just never really sat well with me," I admit. I was trying hard to hold back as much information about my mother as I could, but I could tell that my will was starting to wane from the alcohol in my system.

"Why not?" he continued to stare me down, "I would imagine that any child that grew up with the man would have followed suit, as his beliefs would have been passed down as being normal ideals."

"I was influenced more by my mother than my grandfather," I coolly reply, "So I guess you could say that I'm a product of nature more than nurture." I laugh at my own personal joke. My grandfather had said the same thing to me before each of his sessions with me. Haymitch let out a little chuckle as well.

"I was much more influenced and inspired by my mother," I tipped the glass to my lips, letting the liquid rush into my mouth, but I didn't swallow. I couldn't believe I had just mentioned my mother. I didn't want to bring her up just yet.

"She must have also shared a different opinion from Snow," Peeta guessed. I swallowed the contents that lingered in my mouth.

"Yes sir," my head was starting to swim, "She wasn't really his daughter and so grew up away from him." Fuck I've said way too much. My eyes go wide with realization.

"What did you just say?" Haymitch's and Peeta's eyes were just as wide as my own. Clearly the secret that the former President kept was widely believed.

'N-n-nothing," I stammer, desperately trying to think of a way to cover my slip up. My head was spinning way too fast. I didn't realize how much I had drank until just then.

"I need to lie down," I whisper. I stand up quickly, knocking over the chair I had been sitting in. I walk up the stairs and into my room, flopping down onto the bed. The ceiling spins and I pull myself back up into a seated position. I start to hear the voices from outside. Katniss is clearly seething whenever she addresses Silas. She must have noticed the effect that everything was having on Peeta and clearly didn't appreciate it. I smile to myself as I take comfort in the fact that Silas will most likely not receive as much assistance from the Victors as he may have hoped. I start drifting in and out, my eye lids getting heavy. I've never been drunk before. I lay back down, resting my upper body on my elbows, fearful of the room spinning too fast. Soon a pair of new voices drifts up to my ears. The final two Capitol tributes had arrived.


	5. Chapter 5: Reunion

**Chapter 5- Reunion **

I sit back up the rest of the way and fall off the edge of the bed creating a loud and resounding thud on the wood floor. I slowly make my way over to the window to peek at the new arrivals. I recognize them immediately as my crazy and spoiled cousins. Celeste, at 13 years old, is the younger of the two sisters. Her bright pink hair is in tight ringlet curls that have been piled on top of her head, effectively reminding me of a cotton candy volcano. Her skin is an overly pale white with flecks of silver, creating the effect of making her look like a pearl. I'm slightly appalled that her parents had let her get that type of work done, and even more so that they had been able to find a stylists to take on the job. Most Capitol children under the age of 16 were not allowed any body work of this extent. It had something to do with them not being fully developed until then. I look at Cyrus from my window and can clearly see he shares my thoughts on her skin. While she may look outrageous she is very naïve, and I've grown to have a sort of fondness for her sweet demeanor. Her older sister, Chastity, on the other hand is a different story. Being three years older she developed more of a spoiled and entitled aspect to her personality. She and I butted heads throughout her childhood.

"That vapid cunt is here," I whisper to my drunken self. I look back out the window at Chastity. She changed her hair to a bright canary yellow color that clashed with her near orange skin.

"God she's gross," I crawl away from the window and back toward the bed when I notice a pair of brown shoes standing in my path.

"That's no way to talk about your lovely cousin Aine," I could hear the smile in Cyrus' voice. I sat back on my butt, crossed my legs in front of me and looked up at him.

"I don't care, besides they're not really my cousins, not by blood anyway," I giggle to myself. The effects of the alcohol are getting stronger as it burns through my system.

"What the fuck did Haymitch give you?" he smirks down at me. I lift my arms up toward him, flexing my fingers trying to grab at the air. Cyrus understands my drunken body language and picks me up like a small child. I knew that if I even tried to stand on my own I would have fallen back to the floor.

"Whether they are blood or not doesn't matter," he corrected me, "You've grown up together and, besides, most people believe that you are blood. Now's not the time to address that can of worms Aine." I nod my head into his chest and inhale deeply. His smell is different from what I remember.

"You are so full of shit Cyrus," I slur and laugh not really caring about what he's saying.

"Aine shut up, you're drunk at 1 o'clock in the afternoon," he sat down on my bed, still cradling me in his arms. I tilt my head back to try and look at him, but can only see up his nose and the underside of his chin.

"Oh don't act like we've never drank before Cyrus," I chide, "And this isn't even the worst we've been either." My mind wanders back a few years as my fingers trace his collar bone. He stopped my hand, clasping it with his own.

"You've definitely never been this drunk before, so stop that, we agreed-," I promptly cut him off.

"They're both dead, so I say the agreement is off," I start to giggle at the way I emphasized the 'f'. Cyrus grabbed my chin and forced me to focus on his brown eyes.

"Aine," he tone had lost some of his warmth causing me to lose most of my buzz.

"Shit, Cyrus I'm sorry," it was too late. I stuck the wrong chord.

"Really I didn't mean it that way," I trailed off, not knowing where I was going.

"It's fine," he said after a few minutes silence, "In a way you're right. The President and that witch can't force us apart anymore, but…" I knew why he couldn't finish. We were both being sent to our deaths. There's no way that we would be able to rekindle the fire that used to be our relationship. I didn't realize how much I missed him until this very moment. The pain of him being so close, and yet so far from me, became almost unbearable. In my intoxicated state I had no chance of stopping the tears that trickled from my eyes. We sat in silence again for a long time. I didn't want the moment to end, but it was by a gruff clearing of a throat. Haymitch stood in the doorway looking at the two of us, I couldn't tell for certain, but I thought I saw a hint of pity in his eyes.

"Katniss wants to know if you want to go over some plant identification," I couldn't tell who he was speaking to, but my mind was still unable to really focus on much of anything. I felt my body being pushed onto the bed and the weight of Cyrus from my side was gone. I felt my throat give a faint protest to the departure and a deep whisper on the other side of the room. A few minutes later, I heard a soft cluck of wood on wood next to the bed. I open my eyes to slits to see Haymitch sitting next to me in his chair.

"Cyrus asked me to make sure you get some actual rest. Apparently you'll need it in order to deal with your cousins."

"Thanks," I mummer into the pillow. I can feel my vocal chords vibrate, but can't tell if I make any audible sound. I reach my hand out, in search of what I'm not too sure, but it finds its intended target.

"Shh, just sleep you little drunk," he jokes, his cold hand tensing at my contact, but doesn't retract. I must have said something else as he lets out another chuckle, but the drunken sleep finally overpowers me.

I wake a few hours later just in time for dinner. I know that I'm not going to sleep well that night and secretly make plans to see if I can start my own fire in the dark. I'm not sure if I'll find what I may need, but I've seen past tributes use rocks and grass. Again dinner is held mainly in silence, except for Celeste and Chastity. Both girls are just going on and on about how unfair this whole thing is, but no one is really paying them any mind.

"I just don't understand why President Paylor would go along with this," Chastity squeals in her nasally tone, "I loved and really cared about the tributes." I roll my eyes. Her reasoning just baffles me. She and her sister are thoroughly convinced that they should be exempt from having to be tributes because one year they put some money together to help sponsor a little girl from District 3. The truth that they fail to realize is people want justice in the form of the blood of Capitol children. No amount of supposed sympathy and aid was going to get them out. I knew that all too well, as I wasn't trying to get out of having to go into the Games. No I knew enough to not even try that. These two bimbos couldn't understand that.

"Oh will you just stuff your fat fucking face and be quiet," Silas was the first to actually acknowledge her. I move my gaze over to him. I didn't like my cousins and even though I wholeheartedly agreed that she needed to just stop talking, no one was allowed to talk to them that way, except for me.

"Watch it Silas," I warn, "Or I'll finish what I started earlier." There was a sudden shift in tension at the table. He only looked at me and smiled, a split in his lip opening anew. Something about the way he looked at me then sent a shiver down my spine.

"Don't make a promise you can't keep deary," he winked and went back to finishing his helping of rabbit stew. The rest of the meal passed in absolute silence and soon everyone went their separate ways.

"The four of us will go out in the woods and see what we can gather. Silas and I will hunt," Katniss explained heading to the door to Haymitch's house, "Aine, can you collect edible plants while Cyrus collects some medicinal ones? I'm running low."

"I'll try to show some camouflage techniques to the other's while you're all out then," Peeta added, "Once you're back Aine, you and I can practice a meditation technique." He yawned and draped one arm around Katniss' shoulders. The touch wasn't intimate, but the look in her eyes softened. It reminded me of when Cyrus and I were together. I hated thinking of the trauma that my grandfather had put this couple through. Maybe that's how I could repay them once I won. I could ensure that they would never have to worry about losing the other again.

"I should head out now too," Cyrus turned to me, a bit of longing in his eyes. I knew how he felt. With such little time left I know he didn't want to really part from me. All I could do was return his look. I feared that if I spoke my voice would betray my true emotions. Once everyone had left I walked up the stairs to the room. Haymitch appeared to be passed out on the couch.

Shortly after I settled myself in my room I hear a knock on my bedroom door.

"Come in," I had no clue how Haymitch could even be awake; he had drank enough liquor to kill a small dog after everyone had left. He walked in a little wobbly, but still managed to make it to the chair that was back in the corner. I sat further up on the bed and set down my journal. I have an idea as to why he's here, and so I wait patiently for him to start speaking.

"Do you remember anything from when I was here this afternoon?"

"Not really, no," I answer honestly. I couldn't even recall if I had said anything, but knew that I had made noise. Haymitch let out a slight chuckle. His eyes glazed over and came back into focusing on something. The minutes ticked by and the muffled beep of my ankle bracelet could be heard through the blankets.

"So you don't remember what you called me?" his look became a little more serious. I just stare blankly at him.

"Look kid," he paused rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, "I'm not sure who it is I remind you of, but you can't call me that again."

"Call you what…" I want him to say the word. Instead the silence returns. I was pretty certain now of what I had called him earlier.

"Haymitch," I pause, "What is it that you want to know?" I am determined to have him start and lead this conversation. I will not do it. I need to know that he would be ready to hear this fantastical truth.

"That necklace," he slurs, "Where did you really get it?" I paused, biting my lower lip.

"It belonged to my mother," I admit. For whatever reason, I couldn't bring myself to look at him directly. I keep wondering how long it was going to take for him to connect the dots on this one.

"And where did she get it?" he eyed me suspiciously. I wondered if he was waiting for me to confirm what he was piecing together.

"It was given to her by my father, back when she still lived here…in District 12," I say slowly and calmly, "You see the winter was my father's favorite time of year, as it was in the winter that he first met my mother. It had been the first snow of winter to be exact. She had told me that the purity of that snow couldn't match that of my mother's in his eyes that day." I want so badly for him to realize that I'm talking about him. I had first figured out that Haymitch was my biological father about nineteen years ago. My grandfather had let some key information slip while he was torturing my mother. It was the same day that I watched her die. When he learned I knew the truth I was warned that if I ever even thought of trying to contact Haymitch, that he would be killed. Before my new found information, my mother had told me many stories of my father, including how they first met and the meaning behind her snowflake necklace. I grew to love the man I never met and thought I never would, until the rebellion happened and Snow was killed. Needless to say there were many occasions where the threat of Haymitch's death would be used as the final straw to make me bend to my grandfather's will.

There was silence for a long time. I almost had given up hope when he spoke again, pulling me from my thoughts.

"It's impossible," he shouted, "I watched Iris die in the square when I was 16. You can't be my kid. This is just some sick joke."

"No," I whimper finally standing up and making my way over to him, "Her death was faked once Snow found out she was pregnant. I swear, I'm telling you the truth." I kneel in front of him trying to read his expression.

"Don't tell me your filthy lies," he spits, "I watched her die. I saw the light leave her eyes. How dare you-" I couldn't stand it any longer I wrap my arms around him.

"Dad," I try the word on my lips, "Please, it's true. I promise. He took her immediately after you ran from the square. He had medics work to bring her back and they did. Iris didn't truly die that day." I felt him stiffen up at my embrace. I didn't let go. I wasn't going to let go. I had my father now; at least I hoped I did. I didn't want to let the moment pass and so I spilled every thought out of my head.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you. Mom told me so many stories. She said that the necklace would show you the truth. Please, please believe me Haymitch. I am your daughter." I have begun to beg. I hate begging, but I'm desperate for my father to believe me.

"A daughter," I hear him whisper. Silence falls again.

"Yes," I nod against his chest.

"You do look just like her you know," he said, "Except for the eyes…" Haymitch trailed off as I looked up at him. I wasn't sure in the dim light from the small lantern in the room, but I thought I saw his eyes water.

"I have my father's eyes. Seam eyes, as I've been recently informed," more than ever I want to get up and hug him. All plans of training in the night faded from my mind; after 25 years I was finally able to see my father and tell him who I was. I was one step closer to proving my innocence.

_**A/N:** Whoa! What a twist right? More will be explained about how Aine came to be in Snow's custody and what exactly happened to her mother in a later chapter. **Please read and review**! This chapter is dedicated to No Safe and Sound for their review and favorite!_

_I promise that I've not abandoned this story. I will have an update within the week (so by Jan. 5). Just been busy with the family the past week and a half. _


	6. Chapter 6

_Authors note: YEAH I'm back. I told you I wouldn't abandonk this story. School was just very busy this semester, but it is no over and I will be writing again. This Chapter is dedicated to WhiskeyBandit and Fallout2012 for their reviews!** Please read and review. **As always I do NOT own the Hunger Games or its characters, just my OC's. _

_This chapter is just filler which is why its so short. I'm also sorry if it is just awful and all over the place. _

**Chapter 6**

The next few days were spent focusing on basic survival skills, followed by routine exercise. Needless to say we Capitolites weren't very physically fit. After Chastity vomited from dehydration after the first 15 minutes of our first morning jog-which was extremely light compared to what I heard the Trainers in the Training Center put tributes through-, she quit.

"You were told to drink plenty of water before today," I shouted at her. It was our childhood all over again. She never listened to what she was told to do. She always believed she was above it or exempt.

"Don't yell at me Aine," she cried still holding her stomach as another wave spewed from her.

"I'm not yelling," I corrected, "If I was yelling you'd be scared. Now, get over to the porch." I grabbed her shoulders and practically half dragged her back to the houses in the Victor's Village. After I set her down her sister came up with a canteen of water and handed it to her.

"I'll watch her," she whispered," You can get back to your _training_." Hearing the soft voice of my youngest cousin brought me back to where I truly was. This was why I avoided my cousins as much as possible the past three years. I would always revert to acting like a demanding and controlling Capitol _child_.

"Sorry," I mutter, and race back to catch up with the rest of the group.

* * *

The night before the staged reaping most of the eleven pre-selected tributes had arrived in District 12 along with the remaining Victors. There will be a few extra children arriving in the morning as well, to give a bit more of a dramatic show for the Districts. The Gamemakers reserved a few spare train cars to house the tributes and mentors overnight, but right now the area in front of the Victors Village was bustling with activity from all the people that were present. Some of the Capitol born Gamemakers had been trying to plan a party for the tributes and mentors, but all efforts were squashed by the District Gamemakers and President Paylor. While there have been many "rule" changes, they didn't want the Districts to think that too much favoritism was being shown toward the Capitol tributes.

The Victors were all engaged in what appeared to be a heated discussion. No doubt over who they were going to mentor starting tomorrow afternoon.

"None of them appear to be please," I noted to Cyrus. We sat on Haymitch's porch peering into the parlor of his house.

"Of course they aren't," he chided me, "They have to pick which of us they are going to help, and none of them really want to help any of us…well accept maybe Peeta and possibly your…Dad." He says the last word very cautiously. While Haymitch admits to a small group -mainly the other District 12 victors- that I may be his biological daughter, he is hesitant to fully act as such.

"This was all sprung on him," I say resting my knees on the porch, "I've known for 19 years and he only found out a week and a half ago. He doesn't know how to be a Dad. Give him a break." That was only half true. I was fairly positive that he knew how to care, but didn't really want to be a father to _me. _After all I was raised by the tyrant that took away everyone he loved. It was surprising that Haymitch had become slightly more attentive to preparing for his approaching mentoring duties –his drinking did lighten up during the day- but he was very awkward in the way that he acted around me. In the past several days Haymitch would really only speak to me if it was related to the Games in some way. _Make sure you find water, stay alert, run faster, pathetic girl_, all of these directed toward me. Not one word of praise or jest in my direction like there had been before. He would laugh and joke with the others, once he even whistled in admiration at the way Silas had taken Peeta by surprise during a mock wrestling match. Not to me though. There was only some type of half-hearted advice and criticism. It almost started to remind me of interactions with Snow; however Haymitch's comments were far from my grandfather's level of intended cruelty.

"Still the topic can't be anything they really want to discuss," he turned around and sat on the stairs that led up to the window. We sat there the rest of the night in silence watching the other Capitol children enjoying themselves in the mild festivities.

* * *

I next morning I was numb. I went through the motions of packing everything back in my small duffle bag and putting on my outfit for the reaping. It wasn't extravagant by Capitol standards, but still over done for the districts. The pale green strapless dress floated over my body, yet was still able to show that I did indeed have curves. In keeping with Hunger Games tradition it was the middle of summer and District 12 was sweltering compared to the summers in the Capitol and so I decided to forego any make-up. As I continued to pack the rest of my few belongings I didn't hear the footsteps that approached the doorway.

"You almost ready girl?" Haymitch leaned against the doorframe, "We don't have all day." I ignored him and pretended to organize the contents of my bag.

"Look Aine-"he was cut off by the sound of breaking glass downstairs.

"Fuck you Silas!" I heard Chastity shout.

"Damn it," Haymitch turned on his heel and headed back down to see what was going on. I glanced out the window to my room and saw the flash of her canary yellow hair as she ran toward the district square. I wasn't ready for this. A huge part of me just wanted to run, but I kept hearing my grandfather's voice in my head. _Don't be a coward. No one will fear a coward. Thus no one will respect a coward. _Man, that bastard really fucked with my mind. I closed my bag, went down stairs, took a deep breath, and walked out the door to the faux ceremony that was to declare my death sentence.


End file.
